About Me

Monday, November 24, 2008

Gram: I'm working so hard. I'm getting this dirt behind the house all flat.

mi: Why? You look trashed. You should go in the house.

Gram: Well, the dirt needs to be straight. That's how I like it. And I'm sweatin' like a colored boy at election.

mi: Gram, I think it's colored boy at a lynchin'.

Gram: No, that's not how it goes.

mi: Gram, why would a colored boy be sweating at an election? Is he afraid Abraham Lincoln might be elected? Don't you think it's more likely that a colored boy would be sweating at a lynchin'?

Gram: Well, I don't care, that's just how it's said.

mi: And by the way Gram, we don't really say colored boy anymore.

Gram: Okay, what do we say?

mi: Well, the p.c. people like to say African American... but I just say black.

Gram: Used to you couldn't say black.

mi: I think that was blackie... but black is fine.

Gram: Okay black then. I'm sweatin' like a black boy at election.

mi: No one's sweatin' anymore gram, Obama is President now. Time to come up with a new one.

A Conversation at the Pool

My convo with gram reminded me of the pool convo, which is almost as good. We were at our outdoor neighborhood pool a few years ago. No one was ever there because it was a retirement community and it's wrong for old people to swim. Their hair never recovers.Anyway, this boy, maybe 7 or 8, comes in with his grandma.

boy to Devon: Are you Italian?

Devon: No, I'm African (because poor devon has no idea what he is, he's so not p.c.)

boy: Wow, do you get to see a lot of elephants and giraffes?

Devon: No.

boy: Oh, I'm Italian. That's why I have brown skin too. (which by the way, wasn't even close to Devon's)

Friday, November 21, 2008

(I don't know how to find a picture of Celine, so you can look at Jimmy and Quincy)My friend, Triss, bought Celine Dion tickets for our birthdays in August. The time finally came today.

I was not in the mood. I have to pee every 25 minutes, my tail bone is not happy, Jimmy has court side seats to the B.Y.U. basketball game (which I didn't want to go to either), Micah had basketball practice that I was supposed to carpool for, Devon was going to Salt Lake, and that Left Keegan babysitting the babies for 2 hours by himself.

So... it was not a good night for Celine. I drove up to Salt Lake with Triss' sister and we met Triss at Ikea to carpool. Traffic was a nightmare. What's new in Utah. They convince me that redwood rd is the way to go. (this story is turning into one long run on - is it every going to end - sentence.) Anyway, by the time we get to the Energy Solution Arena I have been in the car for 2 hours. Buggin. So, I pull into the parking lot right across the street, and there are a million parking places. I don't think anything about it. All the sudden Triss' sister says - "I heard the Celine Dion concert was canceled and was going to be on Sunday instead"

Are you serious? Did you want to mention this two hours ago? Really?

And listen to this part... when she heard that it was canceled, she got on the internet and tried to find out, and then she couldn't see anything, so she called the Energy Solution building, and couldn't find out.

Did you think to call your sister and see if she could figure it out? Is it possible that you are too old to figure out how to use a computer or the phone? (I say too old, but I really mean too dumb, but that sounds rude, so I'm sticking with too old.)

I had to take a shower. I had to put make-up on (which is way more fun now, because I got the vibrating mascara, it does two things at once... it lengthens and thickens) How lazy do you have to be to not want to even move your mascara brush? Apparently as lazy as me.

Anyway, Celine is now scheduled on February 22, 2009... Yep that's a Sunday... in Utah!Has no one talked to Celine about this? Doesn't the whole world know about Utah? We would prefer to shut down on Sunday. Whatever... my problem is not actually Sunday, it's that I will be 15 months pregnant and not interested.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

My sister, "Panda", had her most embarrassing moment in her 30 year life. So, I decided to record it. (Because, that's the kind of great sister that I am!)

A neighbor has been buggin' and buggin' Panda, and Randa (her husband) to sign up for pre-paid legal. (this is a different blog). Anyway, this lady has called and called. So, Randa caved and told her she could come and give the spill (is it really spill or schpeel?) So, Panda's house is torn up,(surprise), because she is remodeling the kitchen. The lady comes over and is sitting in the disaster, and it must be a disaster if Panda says it is.

Samoa, Panda's one year old, comes in and hands the lady something. She opens her hand and Samoa gives her a bloody pad. Yeah, that's right, you heard me - he hands her a bloody pad. Say it together ---GROSS--- So, Panda grabs the pad as quick as she can from the lady, and proceeds to turn 15 shades of red. Which I think is a totally legit thing to do, except for I wouldn't have grabbed the pad. I would have just turned 15 shades of red.

To the ladies credit, she does not start crying, and she doesn't puke, (which is what I would have done) she washes her hands and takes Randa's check for her pre-paid legal and leaves.

So, Panda goes to pick the girls up from gymnastics and is thinking the whole way over about how terrible this whole ordeal is. She can't figure out where Samoa got the pad. Because she hasn't used a pad for a week. She starts thinking and thinking and realized that the pad was nice and fresh blood.... once again-- GROSS. Then it comes to her. A couple of hours before, she had made hamburgers and the bloody pad was from the bottom of the hamburger meat.

So, Panda goes home and calls the lady and lets her know that it's not real blood, just cow blood. Which by the way is still --- GROSS. But, not as gross.

I succumbed to P.T.A. president pressure, something about doing something good for our community, if we want support from them??? ... I volunteered for P.E.R.C. today. It's in the dungeon at the Orem library. It stands for parent educational resource center. That says it all right there. Who does this sort of thing? This place was packed as full as my grandmas house with games, and kids crap. If it were my house I would have called D.I. to come and pick it all up. So, as a volunteer I got to count pieces to games and make sure they were clean and not torn... etc. etc. Some of these things have up to 1000 pieces.

Now here is the question.

Who in their right mind says - hey, I think I'll go to the library and rent a game with 1000 pieces from the old lady at the library who thinks that this is her personal library? Why would you even want a toy with this many pieces? And why would you borrow one? You would have to have kids like Blarin. And trust me, I don't know anyone else with kids like Blarin.

So, this lady was putting away a game, and she was so stressed about the pieces, and she mentions that it's a $300 game. Once again, WHY? It's not right to even rent something that expensive to someone without letting them know. You couldn't pay me enough.

I was feeling a little bad when I went to the library. A little nostalgia hit me because my mom took me to the library almost daily. I walked out of that place and said a big fat "good riddance". Oh, and get this I didn't even feel bad. Who can have all that stress of returning pieces and no rips, or coloring or food on things. You have to be superman to do that.

I did people a favor though. When they go to rent something they won't be able to find it. I just stuck things back where ever. You may want to rent the geography map with pieces for the whole world, but guess what ... I stuck it in the math section. That crazy lady was just sitting there making things up. I finished my work, because I am super volunteer, and I was praying to go home early, for a much needed nappy nap nap. So, as I'm grabbing my coat, she says " I guess you can do inventory"...

WHAT?

Yeah that's right she wants me to re-scan the entire room in case someone brought something back that didn't get checked in. This is like my grandma cracking walnuts. It's crazy talk. No wonder they stick this lady in the basement... she's crazy.

So, I am writing this down so that I will remember that I am never volunteering for anything again. I don't care how many crazy people need saving... I'm not doing it.

(yeah, that's right, now that I can add photos watch out. I thought since I was speaking on crazy, I would add Devon, who apparently was messing with the iphoto booth)

Friday, November 14, 2008

Who came up with LOL and what in the world would you need to use it for? Is it really that much effort to text " you is one funny girl"?

I'm a fan of the text sometimes. There are places for it ... church, P.T.A. meetings, when you have no social skills and want to say something to someone, but don't like them enough to call. I actually text all the time, and consider myself quite the text queen. Okay fine, I did have to take lessons from my not so clever 15 year old, but all the same I can put out a quick text when called upon.

I just don't understand the text talk. y r u going 2 cali? This seems so illiterate to me. I have to put full punctuation in and spell it correctly, which may take me an extra 30 seconds (idk because I haven't timed it). At least it's not like my relief society president texting... cum 2 nite @ church. I ran to the church so fast you can't believe it. Who would have thought I could move that fast, but I'm not one to pass up the big "O"... and at the church no less. I am all about experimentation. One time at the B.Y.U. library...

Back to the R.S. Pres... It turns out that she could have just typed Come to the church at 7 for a meeting, and we all could have saved ourselves a lot of embarrassment.

I have a friend, um... Smalyssa, who types ha-ha after almost every text. I have a theory on this... If you have to tell someone that your are funny, then you probably aren't. Or you think that whoever you're texting is so dumb that they can't understand your funny story.

Which brings me right on back to LOL. I'm LMAO. Explain the reasoning behind this.

Oh, and P.S. texting is not a word. If you are p.c., which I really want to be, you should just say text. I learned this from the bst txtr evr ... Smalyssa.

P.S.S. The picture was just to see if I could figure out how to do it... That's not Smalyssa, that's Blarin and Tophie! ha-ha. I would have put in another one, but I'm not that clever yet. So, alas it can not be changed. Sorry Blarin about my photography... it would be a better picture of you, if you taught me how to use my camera.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

So... I am late sometimes. I seem to be late for church more often than not. Just by a minute or two. I am always late to the Dr.s family parties. I am sometimes late to my own family parties. I am late to P.T.A. meetings most of the time.

I am on time to the movies, or meeting a friend, or picking up my kids, or getting them to school.

Do you see the pattern? I choose to be late to things. I don't want to listen to the Dr.s dad sometimes, so I'm late to his parties. I don't want to sit at church any longer than I have to... so I'm late, hoping I can sit in the comfortable chairs in the foyer. I am late to my own family parties, because sometimes the drama of the momma and the papa can be too much for me to want to take. I am late to P.T.A meetings because when they start, they hold up a four inch flag and say the pledge of allegiance... and no one laughs, except for me. Not to get off subject, but this is the craziest thing I have ever seen... A group of fully grown women standing up and facing a four inch flag and saying allegiance to begin a P.T.A. meeting. It's almost creepy.

Any who.... Being late is rude. There's no other way to get around it. I have tried. I have a couple of late people in my life. And when I say late... I mean late by like 3 or 4 hours. And one of them is so late sometimes, that she doesn't even show up for a week.

I love these people (to a point) but being pregnant, I find I can't take it. I am tired and I am hungry, and when I have to wait for someone else for hours before I can sleep or eat. I can't take it. I know you think that I should be able to eat or sleep without the help of others. But, here's the story... someone says "let's do lunch a 12:00." So, you don't eat, thinking there will be food in the near future. You call said person and they say "I'm walking out the door" So, you still don't eat. Pretty soon it's 1:00. You call again, and they have the excuse, someone came over... I'm putting my shoes on and getting in the car. It's 2:00. And then look who shows up by 3:00. Why lie about getting right in the car? There are some things to lie about... like "yeah, you look great in that new dress"... "I didn't take that cookie" "I didn't sleep with your husband". Do you not know that it's going to take you 3 hours to get in the car? Do you really think that you are headed right to the car? Did you really just lose track of 3 hours while you put your shoes on?

I take responsibility at some point because I believe in them every time. When I tell someone I am going to do something, I do it and I believe that the people around me will too. So...

This is a constant in my life. So, I'm open to suggestions. When is late too late?

Is there a grace period that you give late people?

Is there an excuse that is acceptable? i.e. I had a headache, I fell asleep?

Thursday, November 6, 2008

I have no business watching sports. I am going to turn into my mother - and quickly.I have seen the light and I am banning myself from football ... until the next game probably. I have to go, I am on my way to the bishops office, he is going to see me on an emergency "save your soul" basis.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

I'm not a big political follower... but I'm just saying this... you couldn't pay me enough to be the president right now.

I think I'm actually happy for McCain for being able to get out of this mess. If I were him I'd be doin' a little dance right now.

I love that the big B thinks that he can save America. I say there are some things that only crazy people can do, that's why I hang out with so many crazies. Some times they aren't clever enough to know that things aren't possible. I kind of like that.

Did you listen to the speech? He's already saying that it probably can't be done in one term... he's setting you up for another term... smart and crazy! Wow! I was impressed by the graciousness though. At least I'll be paying all those taxes to a well spoken, gracious man.

Monday, November 3, 2008

The truth is this -- I really know some seriously crazy people... but if I write about the crazies on my blog the chances are that they will read about themselves and kill me. I'm going to have to solve this issue. Maybe I will have to use false names. People need to be warned, right?

So, here is my first warning... be careful about the comments you leave on your sister in law's blog... We will call her "blarin" because she will make you do stuff in return for her doing stuff. That's my warning... and while I'm at it don't you think it's a little odd (crazy) that she wears a new pair of pajamas every night? I've worn the exact pair of pajamas for ... count them ... 15 years. And it may even have been 3 or 4 years since I've washed them. What about that "blarin"? And here's the other thing... My husband thinks that they are HOT. He tried to mock them the other day, and instead ended up saying that he really liked them. What about that? When I figure out how to put pictures on this blog you had better watch out... because I am putting a picture of my hot pajamas up so that ya'll can run out and get some, so that your husband will think you are HOT too.

I will admit that I have tried to change from my pretty jamas, but when it comes down to having a hot night, or feeling comfy, or if I'm sick, or if I'm having a "fat" day (which is surprisingly often) I go right on back to my tried and true trusted pajamas.